Sentimental
by Kella Toh
Summary: Being sentimental was not really Kankuro's kind of thing. KankuSari one-shot. Rated T for Kankuro's potty mouth.


_A/N: A short ficlet on a new crack-pairing that has sparked my eye. Usually, I don't do crack stories, but this pairing I found really cute. Tell me what you think, you crazy KankuSari fans!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto._

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><p><strong>Sentimental<strong>

My shoulders ached as I carried pound after pound of papers. The mound in front of my chest was beginning to grow larger each time I wobbled down the hallways of the Kazekage building. Boring scrolls dotted it's brown walls, not a far stretch from my brother's office.

The moping of having to do the 'occasional' grunt work had ceased for the time being. Not only was it useless, but the task I'd be complaining about actually had good reasoning behind it. The few gerbils we kept around had floated off, some making families, some finding other uses of their time, and others having died in the war. It was a large dilemma.

The Kazekage's official assistant had not been named as of yet. It was obvious who really _did _help him with "assistant-y" things, though. He kept Matsuri around sometimes to work, especially with political galas and things ("The Kazekage _needs_ a date!" Temari had nearly shouted.) of the show-off nature. Never one for brainless eye candy, he had her busy liaising with Iwagakure.

People would stop by and pick up whatever Gaara would let them do, some respecting his decision to be assistant-less, others not so much. Baki, Temari, and I held that position for the most part, doing tedious tasks while he dealt with even more so ones. But since Baki settled down, and Temari spent a lot more time in Konoha ("He's_ not_ my boyfriend!" she had screamed.), I was left with a heavy bundle of, well, _shit_. Sometimes, when Gaara'd be gone on some mission (he had insisted the Kazakage stay active on the once-in-a-while assignment), I'd walk into his office and it would be a complete mess.

Finding little love letters and gifts left on his desk was, to say the least, not uncommon.

Of course, he'd turn them away and give them to Temari and I to fool around with. At first he kept his cool, politely returning them to their givers with a kind, _"No thank you," _and a jealous chin-turn from Matsuri. But, apparently, his fangirls were more like persistent sexual partners and drug dealers and didn't know that no meant _no_. Not 'tell all your friends Gaara-sama's playing hard to get'.

As the piles of gifts grew, the cards that were lovingly sketched with them grew too. Temari and I laughed our way out of feeling like guinea pigs. It was _entertainment_.

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><p>"<em>Gaara-sama, I love you with all my heart and beyond!" I shrilled in a high voice. Behind the stack of papers we were sorting (stupid, hilarious, and need to be looked at), I could hear Temari's chuckle of laughter.<em>

"_This is getting ridiculous. I'm not sitting here, laughing through a stack of papers while you get fat off of free chocolate..." she scorned half-playfully. I could hear_ _her tear through a pocky stick moments after._

_A sigh._

"_I feel kinda bad, 'ya know? Fangirls are the weak ones, seriously, but I wonder if they have a life other than this." My thoughts wandered to all the girls I knew in the Academy that had transformed into Gaara's minions._

"_Don't be such a sentimental pussy, Kankurou. They're weak," she snorted, "but they'll grow out of it when they lose the bubblegum ideas."_

_Temari, such a lady, right?_

"_Maybe first kill?" I offered, thinking through the 'awakening' process it was supposed to bring._

"_I don't know," she replied, "Probably after he gets married."_

"_We all know how close that is..." I teased, scrunching my nose up in a burst of humor._

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><p>I sighed again, taking in my brother's office I had ended up in. The pile of miscellaneous papers had made its way to a chair near his desk, the leather strap binding it severely dry. Off to where his actual workplace was were three of the ever-shrinking notices (Matsuri's glares had turned to be quite affective between her old fan-group). To be fair though, it was a Wednesday.<p>

My curiosity is half-peaked, whether from the lack of anything to _do _(peace was a blessing and a curse), or my insatiable desire to poke fun at his letters as I gobbled down the food they sent. I reached for the first.

_Gaara:_

_Watered your cactus. I don't know why you insist on watering a damn desert plant._

_-Baki_

I grinned my lop-sided smile at my sensei's neat handwriting. It was scrawled out on what looked to be a very unhappy sticky-note, because I caught it mid-air as it nearly flew out the window.

Onto the next:

_Gaara-san:_

_Your request to have Temari returned to Suna in time for the Sun Festival has been granted. She will not miss out on any key meetings._

_-Naruto_

_P.S._

_Shikamaru will miss her. Don't tell them I told you._

Kankuro smirked as Naruto's newfound gossip. Time spent with Ino getting flowers was time well wasted. Although it _was _interesting to have his sister's romance in his ring of knowing. Also, Naruto was getting better with the honorifics. Not so much with the Hokage of it all, it seemed. Damned if a crumpled peice of lined paper would cut it with the Elders.

As my hand reached for the last in the stack, I froze. It was an admirer's.

The soft pink box in front of me lay gingerly between a pencil and a fresh peice of paper. It's large red bow exploded on top of it, an explosion of awkward home-made wrapping and misguided effort. In horribly attempted calligraphy on the card, was my brother's name.

I knew the desperate script from the note, the pitiful wrapping paper, and the scrambled knot of a bow. I knew it's maker, giver, _owner_. I remembered her from the Academy.

With her long, choppy brown hair she was easy to miss. Her common brown eyes didn't electrify with her common tan skin. Even the way she wore her forehead protector was typical.

Her goofy personality was not, in a sort. The way I'd catch her in the two-year-under class on the field outside, cutting up with her friends during target practice. The slightly-annoyed smirk she'd get when a teacher might call her out. How I'd see her chopping her split-ends with a polished school kunai now and again.

She was carefree.

Not in the obnoxious way that I was used to having to deal with the underclassmen and younger kids. In the fun, spicy way that made my tongue wiggle in a concoction of anxiety, desire, and jealousy.

I'd caught her in the sand-field used for training outside the academy once. She looked to be slicing an orange with a dull kunai. By the looks of it, she'd barely scraped the surface.

"Hey, what'd it ever do to you?" I think I said with a smirk.

She returned it head-on. "You here to bust chops about my fruit habits, Kage's boy?"

My expression deepened, "Nope, just saw you earlier being pretty bad at practice. You throw like a bat."

The look of disbelief was soon replaced with the look of someone who had just eaten a rotten cactus. She looked to be chewing her thoughts around, rolling up a good hit of insult.

"Teach me." she surprised, thrusting her kunai into the orange and an inch from my nose. "I can, uh..."—_chicken—_"Do really good!"

I think I blushed then, because I like forceful and awkward chicks, plus I'd never had an orange poked in my face before. Plus, she was kind of cute. (A lot, really.)

The next few hours were spent in amateur target practice, stances, and half-flirtatious insults and jokes. Pretty soon, from my chair from the window I could see her impressing her classmates and teachers. When she hit it dead center finally, I think I jumped ten feet from my seat. (I reminisced how proud I felt during detention.)

It repeated itself, until eventually I had to set off for the chuunin exams and nothing was ever quite the same.

And here I was. _We _were. This ugly little pink box, that had so many other companions from other fangirls stowed away in some half-eaten closet. Just us.

No lasting girlfriends (one-night stands were appreciated, but not really gotten on more than missions and civilians).

No helpful friends (the alive friends I had made one way or another were either rising through to ANBU or already dating/marrying/married to someone).

No supportive family members (Temari was away in Konoha, Gaara in his office, and none of us having time to talk).

Just me and a pathetic excuse for a devotee's gift.

To knock me out of momentary self-pity and groveling was a knock at the door. I set down the card I didn't know I was beginning to crumple to find out who was behind the slam back to reality.

"Hello, Kankuro-san." she breathed.

_Her._

It was Sari.

"Well, good day to you too." she laughed lightly, pushing past me into Gaara's office.

"Hey, you can leave your admirer gifts later. I'm the one who has to clean it all up." I said, harsher than I should have.

Taken aback by my rudeness, she presses the left side of her cherry lip into her cheek. "You know, it's not _from _me. Chikako keeps begging me to wrap her gifts and write her cards."

_Wait... what?_

In order to keep my mouth from dropping to the floor, and my head from spinning with happiness, I investigate, "Chikako? Lady Kazue's kid?"

Chikako was arguably the most adorable brat in the entire village. I had to admit, her cherub-looking features and high brown pigtails were hard to say no to. At only 5, it wasn't a surprise she was the last fangirl standing. Matsuri must not have had the eyes to glare lower than her height.

"Who else's?" she says sassily, putting a gloved hand on her hip. Sari glares at me, as if to announce her unhappiness with my conclusion-jumping.

I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. Inside, I'm jumping for joy at the news that she no longer has feelings for my brother. Also, I'm banging my head on the mental table of shame for thinking that she wouldn't grow up and out of her girlish affections for the Kazekage.

"I dunno, I just thought since it was your handwriting and all..." I mumbled pathetically, crossing my arms and leaning back against the desk.

Sari rolled her eyes but smirked nonetheless as she set her friend's box down on the workstation to the left of me. I noticed her pale fingers trace over her horrible bow before neatening it in a perfectionist-like way.

I snickered at her efforts, uncrossing my arms and turning to face her innocent expression. "I don't think I'll mind when I'm tearing it open to get the chocolate."

She raised an eyebrow, and a small tug at her right lip told me she was amused. She sauntered over to my relaxed position, and put her hands on her hips mockingly. "Chikako would not appreciate our home-made chocolate to go to waste."

I pretended to look offended, and raised my freed hands in defense. "Well, if she'll allow it, I'll make it up to you both." I spoke as I leaned off of the table toward her.

"Hmm..." she took a hand off her waist and brought it to her face in mock pondering, "It depends... what do you propose?"

I looked down at her, our brown eyes clashing in mischief and flirtatiousness. "I'll take you out to that new Okonomiyaki-ya for dinner, my treat."

Sari probed me with her eyes for any hints of a joke or lie, but found none. She shifted her weight, still looking up at me. "What about Chikako-chan? What's in it for her?"

"A new playmate, of course." I replied, smiling.

Sari raised her eyebrow again, as if to question my babysitting skills. She knew of my horrible tolerance for small children, although she let it slide. With the cautious smoothing of her hair, I knew I'd need help from a fellow caretaker for _sure_.

In an instant she was up and heading towards the door, calling over her back to pick her up at 7. In my hand was an unfurled apartment address, and under it a tiny stationary heart. The swing of her hips made me question why I hadn't done this earlier.

In passing as I got up and began moving around again, I wondered what kind of mopey sentimental guy would have done _that_.

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><p><em>AN: Hohoho, flirty Kankuro, you... This was originally began as an angst story, but it evolved into this broken-up flirty ficlet. I know, weird. By the way, an Okonomiyaki-ya is a kind of Japanese create-your-own-meal restaurant. It's a usually casual place to eat at._

_Anyways, reviews and feedback are always appreciated. _(:


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